Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
The Worst Feeling
There's nothing worse than feeling like a ghost.
That is what Matthew Williams always thought. And that was what he always felt.
He went through life being invisible, knowing that no one really cared about him. Even his parents and his twin brother had no idea who he was.
He had learned at a young age to cook his own meals, otherwise he would starve. There was never a seat at the table for him, there was never enough food. He usually took the clothes that Alfred no longer wanted to wear.
And at school, his name was never called for roll. As far as everybody knew, Matthew did not exist.
He had contemplated cutting to relieve himself, but the pain made him nauseous. He didn't want to drink, he didn't want to smoke. So he relieved his pain by writing poetry. He relieved the pain by drawing. One of his most precious items was a sketchpad, another was his notebook.
There is no greater pain than to be ignored.
He would write his tests, and when the results would come in, the teachers always would comment about a student that didn't exist. He had tried to make friends, but they never saw him. They never heard him.
He had seen his classmates do things that would harm them. He had heard things that would destroy them.
He had seen another with multiple scars on his wrist. He had heard another asking about some type of drug. He had seen someone kissing the girlfriend of someone else.
Things that should not be seen by others, and cannot be unseen. But the truth of the matter is, as far as they knew, there was no one who witnessed.
There is nothing worse than to be forgotten.
Every birthday, he would see his brother get showered with gifts, with love and affection. He couldn't get a single 'happy birthday' out of anyone. Every Christmas he was alone. It had happened many times that his family had gone somewhere and left him behind.
He had lost count of how many times he had cried himself to sleep. He had lost count of how many times he wished his life could end. After all, how could death feel any different?
There is nothing worse than being invisible.
There was not a single picture of him. Not in his entire home. There were a lot of Alfred, but never him.
Sometimes, he wished that he could just fade away completely. Cease to exist. It is better than his life of non-existence.
One day, he decided to grow bold, and as a picture of Alfred was taken, he made sure that he was in the shot as well. He wanted to know if he would appear in the shot. If they would see him.
Of course, when the picture came out, they all thought he was a ghost. Why wouldn't they? It hurt, to hear his mother and father not know that he was their child.
It was in passing that he managed to hear it. Alfred wondering why he never had a sibling. Why he grew up alone.
Their mother responded by taking him out of town, towards the cemetery. It was in the part reserved for children that they stopped.
Matthew had followed, having nothing better to do. His breath hitched when he saw the name on the tiny headstone.
Matthew Williams. Stillborn.